Non Compos Mentis
by a v a r i e l
Summary: "That boy, that beautiful silver-haired boy you bore will lead us...to an ethereal wonderland." [ dark ]


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Non Compos Mentis 

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a v a r i e l 

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Drip.

Wide eyes of dreams and hopes shattered and distorted but blinded by everything corrupt and wonderful. Vigilant eyes gazed at the silver object in his hand dripping with crimson, a marvelous color for the dead. He grinned, fascinated, and sat next to the body with obvious affection, laying the blade beside him on the stained marble floor. Ivory drowned in a sea of red. And he was floating, floating away on a dark cloud with _her_ right next to him.

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Drip. Drip.

He lifted the head and placed it on his lap, stroking the blood-matted hair with his hands, occasionally slipping his stigmatic fingers through the strands, enjoying the feel of tarnished silk against his cool palm. He calmly eyed her body sprawled out before him in twisted agony and he smiled a genuine smile.

"You and I will fly off to the Promised Land," he cooed gently. "Yes, we'll fly to the Promised Land and you'll forgive me and I'll forgive you of the bad, _bad_ things you've done to me."

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Promised Land…

"I shall seek an Ancient, an Ancient to take us there. That boy, that beautiful silver-haired boy you bore will lead us there to an ethereal wonderland." Hands tangled in the silky hair grasped tightly, tightly pulling. "And I will once again be restored to you, love."

Short jet-black hair, which was pulled loosely in a small ponytail, slipped from its hold and caressed his cheeks. He reveled in its touch and imagined his hair to be the porcelain hands of his lover as she squirmed underneath him…

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…yelling…

…screaming…

…pleading…

"Dumb bitch," he murmured. "You could have had everything if you submitted yourself to me; body, mind, and soul. Oh no. You swore your loyalty to that Turk, that bastardized Turk with the heart of a demon…"

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…demon…heart…

…break him…mold him into…into…

…a monster…

He grinned maniacally and loosened his grip on his lover's hair and petted her head with an unnatural lovingness.

"I shall… sculpt a monster out of your dearly beloved. Pity, really, love. If I only let him watch as you struggled beneath me, writhing like an idiot when you're supposed to be enjoying yourself. Bitch. Why _did_ you do it?"

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…chaos…

My mind's a swirl.

…chaos…

Make me.

I want to live.

I want to live in a hateful world.

A regretful world.

Of his mind.

…chaos…

Of his body.

…chaos…

Vincent's body…

…Chaos…

"Chaos…" he grunted and lifted the body into his arms, walking towards the disheveled bed.

He placed her body on the bed and fluffed the pillow, placing it underneath her head. He pulled the blankets over her and watched her blood seep through the white blankets.

"…will reign."

He stretched out his numb limbs from working himself deathly. His whole job was to rid and destroy Midgar of the filthy people that crowded the streets. He shook his head as he walked to his house. What was the point? When they were rid of their homes, they found salvation in a ruined church in a sector not too far from the plate. It was blooming with flowers; people said it was the heart of the Lifestream. It brought them hope.

But hope would die when Shinra raided the church and chased everyone out, leaving them with nothing. Then, they would scurry off to different sectors, which weren't crawling around with the Shinra creeps.

He sighed. Did the president understand at all? Midgar was crawling with cockroaches, wild cockroaches with no shelter. Now, they were destroying hope of what could be. Why did he join Turks again?

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It was all a job at first…a sort of dream…

…at first…

…But Lucrecia and I…

…Sephiroth…

He smiled. He was now four-years-old and highly intelligent for a boy his age. It wouldn't surprise him if he joined Shinra himself and mastered swordsmanship in less than a week.

When he arrived at his house, a cheerful Sephiroth with grubby hands and an open mouth occasionally exclaimed, "Ice cream! Ice cream!"

Vincent weighed his options.

He was tired. He could sleep. Or…

He could take the kid for ice cream, watch him smile.

And visit Lucrecia.

He nodded to himself. That was a better option.

"Let's go."

"Ice cream, ice cream!"

The boy was happily lapping up any last drops of his vanilla cone as they walked together, side-by-side, to Lucrecia's house.

Approaching the door, Vincent knocked and opened the door.

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Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Lucrecia…?"

The boy beside him remained silent, wide eyes of dreams and hopes, shattered and corrupted. His cone was on the floor as he stood still, not permitting himself to believe the scene in front of his very eyes.

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Innocent eyes.

Vincent suddenly flinched as he felt a prick at his side. His mind was numb, his senses blurred, and he turned around with a hiss. _Hojo…_ Sephiroth was already on the floor. _He's quick…_

"It's a tranquilizer." He grinned. "Sleepy, yet?"

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"You…you…"

His grin faltered and was suddenly replaced by a grim line of pursed lips.

"Chaos will reign..."

Vincent looked at him with perplexity before he fell to the ground and was shrouded by darkness.

"In you."

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Author's Notes: Writing really does reflect your moods. And this one definitely depicts a mood of insanity. Yep, I am going insane. Maybe it's the school. Maybe it's the life. But whatever it is it sucks. And to top that all off, I have so much time to spare – I should just take the liberty to poke my eye out so I can at least tend to something_ while I'm sulking in _boredom_. I will soon rid this morose persona (one of many few – look, I even contradicted myself… yay for me!) by tomorrow. I swear it. Yeah, I'll swear it up my… Anyway, this is a different reflection on how Hojo killed Lucrecia. Did he really? I can't remember but something picks my mind that he did. And the deal with Vincent _knowing_ Sephiroth is his son. It's theoretical but this is what came out and now I need water. All that talk about blood is making my stomach do triple flips._

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dedicated to those who care

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